


Falling off the Floor

by TimeSquid



Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Friendship, Gen, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeSquid/pseuds/TimeSquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett doesn't like to lose control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling off the Floor

Icy wind whipped against Garrett’s face, his feet thudding over the slick cobblestones as he raced down the deserted streets of South Quarter. A bolt whistled past his head. Too close. He sped up. Dogs barked in the distance. They were coming closer, catching up too quickly. If he could only get onto the roofs— His heart was already thumping wildly in his ears, his lungs burning, but he had to keep running. The stinging cold brought tears to his eyes, blurring his vision as he scanned the area for anything to climb. He needed to get to high ground – he was already tiring, and he couldn’t outrun the dogs forever. Finally spotting some haphazardly stacked crates, he quickly clambered up and leapt onto the ledge above. He desperately needed to catch his breath, but he knew he wasn’t safe yet. At least he was safe from the dogs for now.

A thud and the sound of splintering wood just behind him startled him into action once more. He scrambled along beams and ledges, the angry voices of the Watch guards getting louder beneath him. His stomach did an uncomfortable flip as he realised he’d run out of ledge. The next beam was a good three metres away. Glass shattered as another crossbow bolt hit the window behind him. Garrett jumped. Searing pain flared in his shoulder just as he grabbed for the beam, and he lost his grip.

Ice-cold water enveloped him, knocking what little air he had left from his lungs. His body went numb in an instant. Panic flooded him and he flailed wildly, until he realised that there was solid ground under his feet. Taking several deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down and stop splashing about. He could still hear the furious shouts of his pursuers, but they seemed to have lost him for the moment. Either that, or they thought the fall had killed him. It was difficult to make out individual voices over the barks of the dogs. Flattening himself against the canal wall, he was about to make his way underneath the nearby bridge when a sharp pain in his ankle arrested him and he became aware of something warm trickling down his back. He pressed an unfeeling hand against his shoulder. A crossbow bolt was sticking out of it, and his hand came away red.

He was desperate to get out of the frigid canal, but the guards were still too close. Ignoring the pain, Garrett slowly limped through the murky water. At least in the winter the smell wasn’t so bad, and it would throw the dogs off his scent. When he was certain that he was out of sight and earshot, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to climb up to street level. His injured shoulder screamed in protest, and despite the biting cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He was panting and shaking from the effort by the time he made it up and collapsed into the nearest dark corner, but he knew he couldn’t stay and rest for long. The Watch was surely still searching for him, and he’d freeze to death.

Unable to climb und slowed down further by his twisted ankle, the way back to Stonemarket took him much longer than usual. The further he got away from the docks, the scarcer the guards became, though he still had to stick to the winding and turning back alleys to evade them. But before he even got to the clock tower he had to grudgingly accept that he wasn’t going to make it up in this state. There was only one other place he could go, and it meant turning back. 

+++

Chilled to the bone, Garrett finally arrived at Basso’s apartment. He couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering, and his whole body was shaking convulsively. His drenched clothes were sticking uncomfortably to his skin and had frozen solid in some places, and he couldn’t feel his fingers and toes. Basso stared at him wide-eyed as he opened the door.

“Since when do you use the— Are you alright? What happened— are you limping?”

Garrett tried to answer, but his jaw seemed to be locked in place. He settled for shaking his head. Basso quickly ushered him in and closed the door behind him to keep the warmth in. 

“Shiiit pal, you’re completely soaked. You know there’s an icicle forming on your nose? Have you been taking a bath in the sewer?”

With a deep sigh, Basso sat him down on the bed. A fire was blazing in the heavy iron stove, but Garrett could barely feel the heat. At this point, he was convinced he’d never feel warm again. Wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to preserve what little body heat he had left, he watched as Basso shuffled around the room, putting the kettle on and digging through his drawers. Basso started to wrap a blanket around his shoulders, but stopped short as he noticed the blood and the bolt sticking out of his shoulder.

“Damnit Garrett, why didn’t you say anything?!” Basso groaned, wiping a hand across his forehead. “You need to get out of these clothes, you’ll catch your death. And I’ll have to get out that bolt.” He turned around and Garrett heard him clinking and rattling with something in the corner that served as a kitchen. A minute later a steaming mug was thrust at him.

“Here, drink this, should help you warm up. Careful, it’s hot.”

Garrett almost dropped the mug, his fingers frozen and numb. Basso caught it at the last moment and set it to the side.

“Alright, let’s save this for a bit later. Listen, you need to get out of all this leather. But first— Okay, I’m sorry, this will probably hurt.” 

A yelp escaped Garrett’s throat as Basso snapped off the shaft of the bolt, the movement jarring the tip that was still lodged in his shoulder.

“Sorry, mate” Basso apologised, a sympathetic grimace on his face. “Do you need help getting off your gear?

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Garrett shook his head and began to clumsily undo his harness. The tips of his fingers had started to tingle unpleasantly, but apart from that he still had no feeling in them, and the buckles kept slipping from his grasp. After watching him fumble around uselessly for a while, Basso swatted his hands away, exasperation evident on his face.

“Let me.”

Resisting the urge to bolt or shove Basso away, Garrett squeezed his eyes shut and let him undo the harness and peel him out of the sodden leather. He hissed in pain as Basso lifted his arms and pulled the armour over his head. Fresh blood trickled from the wound, blossoming red on his wet white undershirt. Basso gently took his good arm and pulled him to his feet again. It took all of Garrett’s willpower not to kick and flail as Basso tugged off his trousers, leaving him shivering in his underwear.

“Sorry, pal. You’ll need to take that off too, you’re soaked to the skin.” Basso sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll turn round. There are dry clothes on the bed. Leave the shirt for now, we still need to take care of that injury.”

Fingers stiff and uncoordinated, it was a long and painful process to get the pants and undershirt off and put on the clothes Basso had laid out for him, but Garrett refused to ask for help. This entire situation was mortifying enough already. When he’d finished, Basso hung his wet things near the stove to dry, then handed him the drink again.

“Think you can hold this now?”

Garrett carefully wrapped his fingers around the mug, the heat seeping into them and slowly turning them from a faint purple into a bright red. The tingling in his fingertips had developed into a painful prickling, but he managed to keep his grip this time. He sniffed at it and looked up questioningly at the unfamiliar smell.

“What is this?”

“Tea, with umm, some spices and stuff.”

Somewhat suspicious but too cold and exhausted to care, Garrett took a sip. Whatever it was, it was pleasantly sweet and spicy, with just a hint of tartness, but most importantly, it was warm. Before long, he had drained the entire cup and was getting a refill from Basso. He revelled in the sensation of warmth spreading through him, thawing his frozen body. After a while he finally stopped shaking, and the pain in his shoulder and ankle lost its edge, becoming just a dull ache. It was only when his limbs started to feel heavy, his thoughts sluggish and disjointed, that he became alarmed.

“Basso?” he asked, not liking how it came out slurred and unclear. “What was in that tea? I feel… weird.”

Basso just gaped at him and laughed.

“There may have been some rum in it. Don’t tell me you’re drunk already!”

Anger spiking in his chest, Garrett struggled to his feet, but between the effects of the alcohol and his twisted ankle he would’ve crashed to the floor had Basso not caught him around the waist. Garrett shoved at him, disconcerted by how little control he had over his limbs. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, and Basso’s grip on him remained steady.

“Let me go, you— Why would you… what— what is happening to me?!” 

He tried to keep his voice even, but he couldn’t keep the tremor from sneaking into it as he realised that there were two Bassos holding him, four strong arms wrapped around his bare waist, immobilising him. Pain flared up in his shoulder. His throat tightened as terror seized him and he lashed out blindly, but it was hard to hit either of his targets with the whole room spinning around him. His elbow went straight through one Basso’s face. He writhed in their constricting grasp, gasping for air, but to no avail. 

“Don’t touch me! Let me go!” He screamed, and the arms around him released their clutch ever so slightly.

“Garrett— shhh, Garrett, it’s alright, it’s alright. Calm down.” Both Bassos spoke at the same time, the sound muffled and far away. “Sit down before you fall.”

Still fighting to get free, Garrett felt himself being pulled back to the bed, the floor pitching and warping underneath his feet. It reminded him nauseatingly of being on a boat. He was deposited on the mattress, and finally the arms let go of him. Breathing immediately became a lot easier, but the room refused to stop moving.

“Garrett—Garrett, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect… Damnit, I should’ve known you’d be a lightweight.”

The familiarity of Basso’s voice soothed him, slowly banishing the waves of fear that had threatened to overwhelm him. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the twisting and twirling of his surroundings. Leaning against the bedpost for support, he sat for a while, trying to catch his breath and get his racing heartbeat under control. When he opened his eyes again, his vision was still blurry and distorted, but at least the sickening motion had ceased. Basso – the only Basso – was holding out a glass.

“It’s just water. I promise. I’m so sorry, Garrett – I thought it would help with the pain and the cold. I didn’t think…” When Garrett eyed the glass warily, Basso continued, a pleading note to his voice. “I swear it’s just water. Come on, it will make you feel better, clear your head.”

Garrett hesitantly took a small sip first, then greedily downed the rest. He hadn’t realised how dry his throat was until now. He didn’t look up as Basso took the glass from him. Burying his face in his trembling hands, he closed his eyes again. His entire body felt like lead, and his head was swimming. He was so tired, he just wanted to sleep – forget that this disaster of a day had ever happened. 

“Garrett!” Basso sounded as if he’d called his name several times already. “You can’t fall asleep now, you still got that bolt stuck in your shoulder. And what about your leg?”

“Just twisted my ankle, ‘s fine” Garrett managed to get out with some effort. It was difficult to form the words properly, his tongue feeling like it didn’t belong in his mouth. Basso snorted, but didn’t press the issue.

“Okay, Iet’s take care of your shoulder, and then you can go to sleep, alright? Lie down on your stomach.”

Garrett complied without protest. Lying down sounded pretty good right now. Cushioning his head in the crook of his good arm, he listened to Basso moving about and gathering supplies. After a while Basso sighed and set down his things on the nightstand.

“Now, I’m really sorry for what I’m about to do.”

Garrett tensed, but before he could react Basso had already sat down heavily on his back, squeezing the air out of him with his bulk. The weight was pressing him into the mattress, pinning him down, and he could already feel the panic welling up in his chest again. He kicked his legs, trying to dislodge Basso or to slip out from under him, but the man was simply too heavy. 

“Get off me! What do you think you are doing, Basso?! Get… off!”

Garrett redoubled his efforts, but his struggles were in vain. Instead of releasing him, a large hand between his shoulder blades pushed him down further and held him in place.

“Hold still, damnit.” Basso grunted, slightly out of breath. “You know I have to get that thing out. Fidgeting will only make it worse.” 

Taking as deep a breath as he could with Basso crushing his ribcage, Garrett forced himself to lie still. He knew Basso was right. If he wanted this injury to heal without complications, they had to get the bolt out as soon as possible. An icy sliver of dread ran through him at the thought of losing the use of his shoulder.

“You might want to hold onto something. This is gonna hurt.” Basso warned, then set to work.

Garrett steeled himself, but nothing could have prepared him for the pain that ripped through him as Basso started to pull out the bolt, tearing a hoarse scream from his lungs. The pain was overwhelming, searing through him like red-hot embers, and with the next movement of the bolt in his shoulder everything faded to black. 

+++

When Garrett returned to consciousness, it was to the overpowering scent of sweat, blood and cheap cologne. Basso was leaning over him, hands stained red and a concerned expression on his face.

“You alright, pal?” he asked. “You were out for quite a while. Probably better that way though, that wasn’t pretty. You’re lucky that bolt didn’t shatter your shoulder blade.”

Garrett blinked up at him, trying to get his eyes to focus. He was still lying on his stomach, his head heavy where it rested on his arm. Groggy and disoriented, he tried to roll over, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

“Careful, I haven’t bandaged that wound yet. You better sit up for this.”

After taking a moment to get his bearings Garrett stiffly manoeuvred himself into an upright position. His head felt as if stuffed with cotton, a dull ache spreading from the back of his skull. At least his vision had cleared somewhat. He became uncomfortably aware that he was still shirtless. Feeling his face grow warm he looked down at himself, the pale skin of his torso littered with old scars. This would be just another one for the collection.

“So,” Basso began as he started to wrap the bandages tightly around his shoulder. “What happened to you anyway?”

Embarrassed, Garrett lowered his gaze, staring at the worn floorboards. “I… triggered an alarm. Alerted every guard on the estate, so I ran. They shot me down.”

Basso raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And why were you sopping wet when you arrived?”

Face burning, Garrett swallowed before he answered. “I fell into a sewer. Happy now?”

“Not really, no. What about the necklace? Did you get it?” Basso tied off the ends of the bandage. “There. All done.”

“What do you think? It’s in one of my pouches.”

Garrett managed a wry smile, then got to his feet unsteadily and put on Basso’s spare shirt. It was too big, but that made slipping into it with his thickly bound shoulder easier. He walked over to the stove and took the pouches off his armour. It was still damp. Sighing, he thought about all the hours he’d have to spend cleaning and maintaining the leather after the soak in the sewer. At least it would give him something to do during the time it took for his injury to heal. He suspected he wouldn’t do any thieving anytime soon.

Basso took the necklace and the rest of the loot from him, then shuffled his feet awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Listen Garrett, I’m really sorry about the alcohol, and… you know.” He waved his arms about in a vague gesture. “I was only trying to help.”

Garrett averted his eyes. He knew exactly what Basso meant, but he was thankful he hadn’t said it out loud. Shoving aside the memory of the helplessness as he’d felt himself losing control over his own body, of being grabbed and held down, he gave Basso his best dangerous glare.

“Don’t ever mention this to anybody, and we will never speak of it again.”


End file.
